


Windows to Your Soul

by ScrewzLooze



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Actor Hyunjin, Aged-Up Character(s), Director Jisung, Fluff, Jealousy, Kissing, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, actor minho, minsung endgame, side changjin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrewzLooze/pseuds/ScrewzLooze
Summary: Jisung is an ambitious film director struggling to find the right person for the romantic main lead of his next movie. Although there are more than enough actors trying for the role, he has yet to find someone who would fit his specific vision.Tired of seeing him struggle, Jisung’s friends drag him along to a party where he unexpectedly comes across the perfect person for the role - throwing up in a bathroom stall.





	Windows to Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s something romantic that ends with fluff as I promised after my previous fic. ( ˘ ³˘) Finals week has been frying my brain but I hope this story is still intelligible T.T

"You're starting to behave like the zombies in that apocalyptic movie you were trying to pitch in at JYP last year." Changbin reminisced with his arms crossed, towering above Jisung's sprawled out figure. "You need to have more fun is what I'm trying to say. Do you still remember what that's like?"

The blonde was busy laying on the couch, watching the ceiling fan not far from above Changbin's head sluggishly spin around in rhythm with his own heart. It casted a series of long and dark shadows over the rest of the ceiling, with almost an inch of dust settled on each of its blades. Jisung wondered about the last time he cleaned his studio.

"Where's my phone?" He muttered, waiting to fully drift back into consciousness as he shifted under the blanket either his assistant or Chan must have draped over him while he was asleep. Glancing to Changbin's side, he noticed that there was no light streaming through the blinds other than the faint orangish glow of the streetlamp near their studio. He assumed it must be past 6PM the least.

"So you can check your work emails?” Jisung felt a yawn pass his lips even under Changbin’s scrutinizing gaze. “Forget it. We're going out tonight." The elder informed him in a nonchalant tone that allowed no room for arguments.

"But I just woke up! Also, don't you have any other shirts to wear besides that black hoodie?” He teased back with a cheeky grin, tugging on the hem of said hoodie until his hand was swatted away, prompting his grin to grow wider. “Does it ever get washed?”

Changbin squinted his eyes at him, unimpressed. If Jisung concentrated hard enough, he could even see his friend’s nostrils expand as he inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself down.

"You've been sleeping for almost an entire day. It's Friday, dude."

Jisung’s face fell as he sprung from the couch without properly thinking that move over, feeling a sudden jolt of pain shoot through his placid muscles. He whimpered, rubbing at a sore spot on the side of his head, mussing his hair into an even greater mess.

With only a few short naps in-between meetings and shoots, he found himself getting increasingly forgetful. The last thing he remembered was standing in the middle of their kitchen, puzzled and disoriented because he couldn’t figure out why or how he ended up there. He wasn’t awake to see his assistant checking on him a little while later, finding him sprawled out on the floor in a puddle of his own saliva, still drooling.

He winced at the memory in embarrassment, slumping further into the couch, trying to hide from the world under the blanket Changbin was ruthlessly tugging off him at the same time.

**____________________________________________________________  
**

In a two-against-one battle in spite of all his protesting, Jisung miserably lost and was shoved inside Chan’s white Mercedes a few hours later.

“Try to enjoy yourself, okay?” Chan would tell him in that concerned, mothering tone, stopping the car and glancing at him through the rear-view mirror with smiling eyes. Changbin nodded from the passenger's seat in agreement, cracking open a bottle of sugar free Red Bull before frowning at the taste. Jisung was just a breath away from reminding both of them that he was having plenty of fun before they dragged him out of his studio.

A lot had changed over the years. In his early teens, Jisung had a phase when he wanted to become a doctor like many of his peers until he learned that he couldn’t stomach the sight of real blood. He thought of becoming a photographer, and had dipped his toes into poetry and architecture. But at the end of each day and failed attempt, he found himself returning to the movie theater ever since his parents took him to his first screening at the age of nine. He went there every weekend afterwards, the friends entering and exiting his life, sitting beside him in the theater coming and leaving over the sea of years, but Jisung's first love remained the movies and nothing seemed like it could ever take its place.

Everything he was looking for and more, in the world and in himself, the cinema had it all. He picked his favorite dreams and transferred them onto the big screen. For most of his younger years, he had been trying to find his gift, jumping from one profession to the next, never quite satisfied. And once he found it in filmmaking, the purpose of his life became to give it all away. Making movies was the only thing that, while doing it, he didn’t feel like he should be doing something else instead.

Lately, however, he had been struggling to find the right person for the main lead of his next project. What ordinarily posed little challenge seemed like an impossible task this time. He could hardly make it through any of the audition tapes before moving onto the next after just a few seconds in. Word got out that he kept rejecting some of the most talented actors in the country who auditioned for the role, and it didn’t take long before people began calling him crazy for it. It put his entire career and reputation in jeopardy. Working with big names always brought in the big bucks for him, he already knew that. For the most part, he wasn't so picky about the actors as long as they fit the audience's expectations. He had other things he liked to focus on more such as the atmosphere and the soundtrack. But this time, it was all about the main lead, and in spite of the snarky remarks he was getting from the actors he rejected, and even his own team's disapproval, he believed in himself and his vision. He never compromised on the things that mattered and was not about to start doing it now.

He was brought back to reality by Chan intertwining their fingers to pull him out of the car, and Changbin behind him ushering them forward with his palm on the small of Jisung's back.

"Give it an hour," Chan said, squeezing his hand in encouragement. "Just one. I won't drink so if you're not having fun, find me and I'll take you home."

"Couldn't we go home, like right now?" Jisung begged, turning to his older friend with a pout. He could almost feel Chan's steps slow down in consideration before Changbin thrusted them forward with newfound urgency.

"We came this far, haven't we?" The black haired whined, hands on both the elder and Jisung until they reached a yellow neon sign that hung by the door, flickering “entrance” in cursive under the printed logo of the club. "Listen to Chan, Jisungie. One hour is nothing." He said, giving Jisung just enough time to nod before opening the door and shoving the two blondes inside with a self-satisfied grin.

A dark hallway with walls shaking from the loud music led them to the main area. People were laughing and dancing all over the dance floor under the pink and green lights shining down on them. There were leather couches strategically placed in the shadows, none of them lonely without someone perched on either of its arms, and a hand curled around every waist in sight. Legs were entangled, bags about to be stolen, and drinks irresponsibly shared - yet there was Jisung, alone in the noise, constantly having to shove people off plowing into him. Chan tossed a bottle of beer into his hand at some point, mouthing a “relax” before getting swallowed up into the crowd. Then there was Changbin, in a different but same black hoodie, busy with a guy nestled on his lap who was giggling enthusiastically at something he must have said that couldn’t possibly be this funny.

Jisung propelled himself through the waving mass of bodies, squeezing and ducking his way to the bar. It glowed like a Christmas tree with led lights attached to its every surface. The glass counter shined a bright white under its grainy finish, while the shelves displaying the drinks a mysterious red. He grimaced at the sweaty hands reaching after him on the way there, and the strangers calling over to him by the color of his hair and clothes.

He ignored them, taking a seat on one of the lean black stools by the counter, wasting no time to chug the entire content of his beer down in a few, forced gulps. When Jisung was a child, he could never tell if people actually liked the taste of beer. After all these years, while trying not to breathe through his nose so he could avoid the stubborn aftertaste of the beverage unwilling to leave his mouth, he was proud to say that he now knew better.

As soon as he stopped looking at his distorted reflection through the empty glass, he noticed people around the bar giving him a series of long, suggestive glances and smiles. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, eliciting a chuckle from the bartender who he didn’t even know was staring at him until then. He soon realized that he couldn’t spend the remainder of the hour so close to the crowd.

Contemplating his options, he decided to make an escape toward the bathroom, hopping off the stool and keeping his arms flush against his sides to serve as shields. He avoided eye contact with anyone at all costs, even the bartender trying to offer him a second drink on the house. By the time he painstakingly got to the bathroom after pushing past a dozen people wobbling on their feet with their eyes closed, he was gasping for air, sweat dripping down his temples as if he had just finished running a marathon. The distance seemed about right.

He immediately flung inside, with a whiff of condensed, hot air greeting him. He shuddered in disgust, yet even that felt like a relief from where he had been just a second ago, and for a short while, maybe for the first time that night, he thought he can make it through this party. The walls were not only thick enough to conceal most of the boisterous cheers, but he also had his laptop with him which he smuggled into his bag while his friends were not looking. This wasn’t his first party, he knew he could always count on a bathroom to hide and do some work in. It was almost like lounging at home, except for the smell.

But as Jisung’s luck would have it, the place was already occupied by someone, gagging behind one of the bathroom stalls he planned on using. He let out the exasperated sigh he had been holding in since his arrival, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling as if the answers to why life had to be so hard would be written there, hiding behind the cracks. Maybe it was buried in the signatures and phone numbers scribbled on the walls. Somebody surely had to know.

He began following the sound walking on his tip-toes, finding the person responsible in the second to last stall bowed over the toilet, coughing up the dregs of his empty stomach.

The stranger had not eaten enough for the coughing to result in anything more than acid and saliva, and his body was visibly shivering under a brown jacket too big for his frame. He kept shifting on his knees, trying to balance himself on the hard bathroom tiles. Overtaken by curiosity, Jisung felt the urge to say something.

“Do you…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Do you need help?”

"Fuck off." The stranger blurted, just in time before another wave of nausea washed over him. Jisung’s mood instantly soured.

“Okay...let’s try this again. I’m Jisung.” The blonde said wryly, raising his voice to speak over the the bass of the music rattling the walls coupled with the other boy’s constant heaving.

“I don’t care,” Came the reply, voice evident with misery and exhaustion more than anything. Jisung felt his heart swell up with sympathy; at least there was one person in this club who was having a worse night than him.

“What’s your name? Maybe I could help?”

Long and agonizing seconds passed by until the stranger moved to say something in return; there was a moment after which Jisung started to think he must have just fallen asleep.

“Minho...but I don’t want your help.” Slurred the other boy over his shoulders.

Maybe it was the poor lighting, or the beer forced down Jisung’s throat not too long ago, or his lack of sleep culminated over the past few weeks, but the sight of the stranger’s face immediately took his breath away.

Betraying the contempt in his tone, Jisung caught a glimpse of two innocent doe eyes from beneath a curtain of straight, brown hair. And if art was an attempt at immortality, then in Minho, Jisung saw his ticket to eternity.

He had no doubt - this boy, right there, drunk and hunched over a toilet bowl was the person he had been looking for all these months.

It was a comically inappropriate time, but Jisung couldn't wait for another or better opportunity to say it. Maybe that opportunity would never come. He had been searching for months; he was tired and losing hope. He had to say _something_ , and say it now.

“I’m actually working on a movie,” Jisung began, shaky with excitement, crouching down beside Minho in the narrow space between the bordering dark green stall and the bowl. He watched a string of saliva hang off of the boy’s bottom lip, glistening under the flickering bathroom lights. “And you look just like who I’ve been looking for!”

Minho glared at him, resting his head on his arm that was folded on top of the toilet seat, his other idly hanging by his side. He looked drained and pale, a mocking grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” He mused, face scrunched with irritation. His skin was sickly dull yet burning red from the alcohol he must have had before ending up here. “What do you really want?”

Jisung covered his face at the faint smell of vomit suddenly reaching his nose. “ _Love is in the air_ ,” one of the scrawls on the panel behind Minho said. Jisung wanted to snort at the irony, but Minho preceded him with a chuckle, probably at the sight of his pained expression.

It was a dry and throaty laugh, yet strangely sweet. His eyes sparkled with lively mischief and amusement under a foggy blanket of exhaustion. But even as Minho was laughing at him, there was a soft edge to his gaze, some kindness and regret, glimmering around sprinkles of rust in the folds of his irises. Jisung felt like a nine-year-old again, being in the cinema for the first time. He couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“I know I sound crazy but hear me out, it’s a --”

“I don’t remember what you said your name was,” Minho muttered, wiping at the beads of sweat trickling down his face with the back of his hand. Jisung could hardly resist the urge to remind him. “But I think I've already told you to fuck off.”

Jisung gaped at the attack on his ego. Perhaps he was mistaken to believe that Minho was the right person for the role. He was just about ready to give up, but then Minho let out a mixture of a groan and a whimper before throwing up again.

Jisung flinched, his heart seizing in his chest and his own stomach twisting. He couldn't abandon someone in a state like that, even as Minho clearly didn’t appreciate his company from the way he continued to seethe and huff under Jisung’s hand on his back.

The blonde pursed his lips shut to stop himself from saying something he would regret later, and patiently continued to put up with Minho's disapproving comments and snarls in-between his gagging. He knew from experience that the people most in need of help were often the ones least likely to ask for it. Minho was a great example of that.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of passive aggression and complaining, Minho began to lean into his touch for the warmth it provided over his shivering body. He seemed like he was close to passing out.

Jisung found a bottle of water in his bag, crouching back down to grab Minho by the shoulders and pull him against his chest so he could pour a few sips of it into his mouth.

He was thankful that for whatever reason, Minho didn't complain, and just melted into Jisung's arms, accepting the water before his condition would get worse.

"Can you walk?" Jisung asked, arms tight and protective around Minho, as if he had held him countless times before, maybe in another life he didn’t remember.

Feeling heavy and exhausted, Minho sunk into Jisung’s arms with a nod, whose soothing embrace began gently rocking him until he felt like he was weightless, floating on an ocean somewhere far away from here. He let his body be tossed about tenderly, wanting the waves of Jisung's arms to shelter him from the world.

The blonde felt stupid for asking - of course Minho couldn't walk. But maybe he had been acting so rude and trying to chase Jisung away because he was ashamed of being seen in this state.

Once the vomiting had ceased, he scraped Minho off the floor, bracketing an arm around his slim waist to keep him upright. He carried themselves out, even as Minho tried to object to it but had lost the strength to.

“Where do you live?” Jisung inquired as they reached the exit at the other, quieter end of the building. Their warm breath escaped into the chilly autumn air like smoke. They stood under a starless sky, the city lights drowning all of their shine out. Minho vehemently shook his head, resting his temples against Jisung’s.

“What does that supposed to mean?” The director prodded, uncurling his hand from around Minho’s waist to look for his phone.

“I don’t trust you.” Minho muttered, eyes pressed shut as he concentrated on staying awake.

“Well, I guess that’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said all night. Probably the last one, too.” Jisung bickered, earning a butt-hurt groan from his company. “So then where should I take you?”

“Just leave me here….I don’t want your help.” Minho insisted even as he was holding onto Jisung for deal life. It didn’t escape Jisung’s attention.

“I know, I know. You said that already. How about you tell me what happened?”

“None of your business…” He taunted. Jisung felt his cheeks heat up to the tips of his ears in frustration.

“Don’t you think I deserve this much?”

Minho erupted into a giggle, airy and hoarse as he rolled his head back, blowing more wispy clouds into the backdrop of the night.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“ _I know_.” Minho smiled, smug and utterly irresistible. Jisung shook his head in marvel and disbelief. He walked a fine line between loving and hating this stranger. “Yesterday was my birthday...my friends and I came to celebrate but I don’t usually drink. Didn’t know my limits…”

“I can tell.”

Minho spared him an icy glare, which looked unthreatening with the apples of his cheeks bright red and his limbs too weak to hold himself up, let alone fight anyone. He looked like a doll, Jisung thought, maybe the most beautiful doll that there was.

He decided to call for a taxi and take Minho to a hotel, willing to pay for everything if it meant that he could make sure Minho was safe for the night. He also tried not to ask him more questions, since he knew Minho’s throat must be on fire, but the other boy ended up breaking the silence anyway

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” He garbled into his ear, almost as if Minho was sober for long enough to try and rationalize Jisung’s actions in a way not even Jisung could. His eyes were lidded and curious while he inched closer after stubbornly shivering in the cold, calm in contradiction to what he had said earlier about not trusting the blonde. It was likely the combined effect of the alcohol and exhaustion, or maybe it was Jisung’s chubby cheeks and hopeful gaze that gave off a naive impression, the kind that assured Minho that Jisung would never take advantage of him.

Was Jisung doing all this strictly out of courtesy? Letting Minho cling and grab onto him for support even with how heavy and uncooperative he was, even as being this intimate and close with anyone else would have long driven Jisung up the wall? Maybe the answer was too complicated for either of them to understand at the moment, about the artist in Jisung seeing something precious and worthwhile in Minho even at his lowest.

“You looked like you could use some help. That’s all.”

When the taxi cab arrived, Minho immediately climbed into the backseat, resting his head against the window, covering the glass near his mouth in condensation. The cab driver didn’t even flinch at them. Jisung was grateful because he wasn’t sure how he would go about explaining what had happened if someone asked.

But things got a little more complicated when Minho’s head slowly switched from the window to resting on Jisung’s shoulder instead. The young director felt himself freeze as his heartbeat stuttered with the shock of it, but he managed to extend an arm around Minho anytime there was a bump in the road, threatening to send him face against the seat in front of them. Jisung thought about letting it happen, just once, to teach Minho some manners, but they got to their destination sooner.

“We’re here.” Jisung whispered into Minho’s hair, handing the driver his due. The boy blinked himself awake just long enough to have Jisung lead them inside and ask for a room.

He got Minho a spacious one with a beautiful view of the city to wake up to. He wouldn’t even get himself a room this nice but doing it for Minho was a different story.

It was still all a little bittersweet to stand in the elevator with Minho perched against the wall to keep him from falling, admiring his snoring face under the bright elevator lights, knowing he was beyond perfect for the role. It was like Minho popped out of Jisung's creative vision, or as if Jisung had come up with Minho altogether. He had plump, kissable lips, high cheekbones, and a signature beauty mark on the side of his nose. Jisung wondered what Minho must look like when he smiled, when it was genuine and painless.

At some point during the elevator ride, Minho had completely dozed off, and since Jisung didn’t have the heart to wake him up again, he was forced to carry him the rest of the way.

His muscles were burning from the added weight; only the spike of adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him steady and going. He was certain that he will feel the consequences of it tomorrow. But for now, he was busy making sure that there was no one wandering the hallways, seeing him carry an unconscious guy around, prompting a call to the cops.

There was a moment between feeling like his arms will fall off and the fear of getting caught that the urge to just leave like he was never there caught up to him. Jisung was tired and grumpy, and he could feel patches of Minho’s saliva still wet all over his clothing. There might have been some blood mingled with it, too, but he really didn’t want to think about that.

The angel in him did triumph somehow once he successfully maneuvered to the door with Minho draped over his shoulder. He laid him down on the bed, taking his shoes and jacket off, setting the items aside before pulling the covers over his body. At the end, when Jisung collapsed in the kitchen because of his own fault, there were people watching out for him; now it was his turn to pass on the favor.

Stepping back, Minho seemed so fragile all of a sudden, with his blushed cheeks and messy hair spread out in a halo, small whimpers leaving his mouth when the warmth of Jisung’s body disappeared. The city lights flashed across his face, and the thought of leaving made Jisung’s stomach churn with sadness.

He spun around in the room, looking for excuses to stay. He first checked the mini-fridge next to the TV set to make sure it had enough water for when Sleeping Beauty would wake up, then left some pain relievers on the nightstand to help with Minho’s headache and sore throat in the morning.

He checked the mini-fridge about two more times after that, opened every drawer, adjusted the pillows under Minho’s head, and smelled every shampoo sample on the bathroom counter. But after half an hour of fooling around, there was nothing left to inspect. Yet Jisung’s feet stayed rooted in the ground, just an arms’ reach away from where Minho’s peacefully sleeping figure rose and fell under the plush hotel blanket.

It felt too hard to just leave, strangely one of the hardest things Jisung had to do in a long while.

When he pitched the idea of his new movie to the production executives, Jisung specifically emphasized that he was looking not just for another pretty face - he was looking for eyes no one will ever be able to forget. He wanted a guy on the screen who will be more than a temporary heart-throb or another big name. He wanted someone special.

Minho was that boy. His pouty, full lips even from afar were the kind of lips daydreams were made of. In the process of drafting the script, Jisung had changed so many things in the plot and in the other characters, but there was one thing he never changed. He _couldn’t_ change it, his hand wouldn’t let him. And that was Minho’s character. It was Minho, who sounded and looked exactly like who Jisung had in mind for the role. The same, fluffy chocolate brown hair like the one he had seen in his vision for the movie. Minho was like a dream come true. A dream found, a dream lost.

Jisung’s heart was sinking into the pit of his stomach at the thought. He glanced at the hotel pens left on the nightstand next to Minho and sighed.

“No need to thank me for anything, really.” He grumped toward the boy, sliding a business card under the pills with a note on the back.

_“If you would ever change your mind, call and we’ll discuss.”_

The door automatically locked behind him with a tick as soon as he stepped outside, leaving no chance of returning. He leaned against it for a few more seconds, regret and hope swirling in his chest, making him almost as nauseous as Minho must had been.

Only then, alone and in the silence, did he notice the incessant buzzing of his phone against his thigh with multiple unread texts from an amused, tipsy Changbin and anxious, sober Chan. He smiled a tired smile before pressing the elevator buttons, waiting for the familiar white Mercedes to pull up in front of the hotel and take him home.

**____________________________________________________________  
**

A week later, when he had long given up and least expected it, Jisung got a call.

“There’s someone looking for you on the phone.” An assistant informed Jisung nervously, seeing how focused the young director was on the set before him with his forehead creased and bottom lip pulled between two pearly rows of teeth.

“I’m busy right now, could they call back at another time?”

“What time should I tell him?”

“I don’t know..tomorrow afternoon?”

“B-but you have a meeting? Multiple, in fact. One from 1:10 to 2:30, and the other from two --”

Jisung ran a hand over his face, groaning softly.

“Then tell him next week, I don’t care.”

The assistant watched him motion and wave his arms around at the people putting the final touches on the scene, trying to give completely different directions to everyone at the same time in spite of the confused reactions. “I’m sure it can wait.”

The set was just about ready for a character finding themselves in a modern metropolis, with the appropriate bright lights and neon props, the highways towering in the air coiled around skyscrapers. But it wasn’t for Jisung’s movie. He was co-directing an entirely different film, since he still hadn’t found the right person for the main lead in his own. It had been a week since he got dragged to that club, and Jisung had long given up on Minho contacting him.

A part of him understood - it was weird to be approached by a stranger, _presumably_ an established director, offering to give a main lead to someone who had no prior acting experience, and was in the midst of throwing up.

Jisung felt his cheeks heat up at the memory; he was ashamed for even having the face to talk to Minho like that.

But the car ride from the hotel back to his apartment felt like one of the longest rides of his life. He had chewed himself through a few more audition tapes since, each one better than the last, albeit something special was missing from each. He was looking for Minho in everyone, that diamond in the rough somehow lost in the plethora of professionals.

“Who’s the caller?”

“A guy named Minho. Never heard of him before. How does he even know your number?”

The thick, rolled up bundle of papers clasped between Jisung’s fingers nearly dropped to the ground, had he not caught it in time at the cost of falling out of his chair. Jisung landed on the floor with his chair on top, threatening to break his back. His assistant quirked an eyebrow; Jisung could get clumsy when he didn’t have enough sleep but this seemed excessive even from him.

“Give me the phone!” Jisung said around a pained wince as he scrambled to his feet.

“But d-didn’t you just say -”

“Forget what I said!” The director groaned, tearing the phone away from his assistant while making his way back toward their temporary office as fast as his bruised knees allowed. “Minho? Are you still there?” He asked, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder, fingers crossed while his free hand opened the door.

After what felt like forever, Minho hesitantly replied.

“Yeah...Who am I talking to? I was looking for-”

“I’m Jisung! It’s me!” He affirmed, tone overly enthusiastic.

“Okay…”

Jisung glanced at the mirror to his side to catch himself blushing a poppy red. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore his excitement while listening to Minho speak. “I was thinking about your offer and the whole movie thing.”

“Yeah? That’s great!”

“I don’t want to promise anything but...I have a few questions.”

“Anything, Minho! Ask away.”

“Alright...I still don’t know if any of this is real or just a scam, I --”

“Why don’t we meet tomorrow morning for breakfast? I can show you my credentials, the scripts I’m working with, all that. I’m sure you would also prefer to talk things through in person rather than over the phone. There’s a diner near my current office. I’ll text you the address. It’s on me. Does that sound like a plan?”

Minho’s ears perked up at Jisung’s offer. He would never say no to free breakfast.

“I-I guess that’s fine. Should I bring anything with me…? I don’t know how any of this usually goes.”

“Well, I don’t usually find my actors in club bathrooms either.” Jisung chuckled, awkwardly tapping on the top of the laminated pages of his friend’s storyboard. If people knew about Minho, everyone would be telling him that he was making a mistake. But Jisung knew better - in every fibre of his being, in the marrow of his bones; Jisung knew that Minho was the right choice. This movie was meant to succeed, and it was meant to succeed with Minho in it. “Just bring yourself.”

It was a cheesy way to end a conversation but he was too excited and nervous to care. Even when the call ended, with Minho hanging up first as expected, he couldn’t stop smiling, cradling the phone against his chest like a baby.

**____________________________________________________________  
**

They agreed on a Friday afternoon, after Minho's dance practice. Jisung was sitting inside the diner, next to a window, watching the bright yellow and red leaves of a sweetgum tree drift by. He had two trees just as old near the apartment he grew up in; one of his first attempts at filmmaking was writing a story of the trees coming to life and falling in love, turning their green leaves red. He never showed it to anyone because he felt embarrassed of it at the time. It was funny how much he loved it now, and how much he tried to make all of his movies feel as sincere and simple.

But this tree was all by itself, just like him. Maybe there was another sweetgum nearby, out of view.

Jisung began to eye the menu nervously, trying to focus on the strawberry pancakes he wanted to order but he was losing his appetite.

A series of agonizing minutes later, while almost knocking over the salt shaker out of boredom and clumsiness, the bells hung above the entry rang cheerfully with Minho stepping inside. The blonde’s head shot up, meeting the other boy’s gaze as he scanned the room for Jisung.

Just the way Minho walked toward their table was mesmerizing. His hair was tousled yet fluffy, probably from running his fingers through it multiple times while dancing. Jisung could immediately feel his breath getting caught in his chest. His lips went so dry, it was painful. If Minho was an element, he would be the wind that swept the autumn leaves away. Jisung felt so small.

Minho beamed at him once catching his gaze, and Jisung swallowed hard, adjusting the salt shaker aimlessly just to distract himself.

"I remember your face." Remarked Minho with a handsome smile pulling at his lips.

“Your voice sounds very different when you’re not throwing up.” Jisung found himself saying before he could think of something better. He wasn’t the best at smooth beginnings.

Minho's eyes widened for a second before he chuckled awkwardly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He was very embarrassed and very, very beautiful.

"I know we didn't start off on the best notes...I just wanted to apologize for my behavior." The brown hair boy replied, sliding his worn, black denim jacket off to reveal a white sweater underneath.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Jisung waved his hand, voice soft and kind. It made Minho blush an even deeper pink, as pink as the small bouquet of fresh flowers arranged in a tiny vase between the napkins and the spices. The petals started out white in the middle, blending into pink and light purple at the edges. much like Minho's lips. Jisung swallowed hard, remembering how he kept smoothing his fingers over those petals to check if they were real, but now his mind imagined smoothing over Minho’s lips instead. He quickly reached for the menu again, tall enough to cover his face.

"How bad was I?" Asked Minho, trying to peer at him over the menu.

"You told me to fuck off."

"Ouch..." The other winced.

"Twice."

Minho fell silent then, and now it was Jisung’s turn to peer at him. His expression was unreadable, which was never a good sign. The director rushed to slip his menu into Minho’s hands so he could change the subject of their conversation.

"Pick something. You can have anything you want."

Minho glanced up at him from behind his lashes a few shades darker than his hair. They were long and they fanned over his rosy cheeks. He had a smirk playing on his lips.

"Really? What if I'm just using you to get an expensive breakfast?"

"You can do that," Jisung smiled, loving that look of surprise on Minho’s face, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Or you can actually consider my offer, and make enough money from it to have an expensive breakfast on your own any day you want."

"You sound very sure of yourself,” Minho replied, folding his arms over the table. “But I’ve never done acting before. I don’t know if it’s for me."

"Well, I'm here to warm you up to the idea. But first, let's eat!" The director grinned, licking his lips greedily at the thought of his syrupy pancakes. Minho followed the movement of his tongue, gaze heavy, pinning Jisung to the chair with it.

When the waiter came by a few minutes later, he nearly had to tug the menu out of Jisung’s grasp, the blonde held onto it so tightly as his last bit of protection standing between him and Minho’s powerful gaze. Minho, on the other hand, smiled innocently at the waiter, ordering a modest plate of regular chocolate chip pancakes.

"So what kind of movie is this even?" He asked around a piece of strawberry stolen from Jisung.

"It's a romantic movie."

Minho gave him an eye roll, and Jisung couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a blush rise to his own cheeks this time.

"People like to learn about couples who meet by some kind of accident, only to end up having be meant for each other." He tried to ignore the way it reminded him of how he met Minho. "The main character, you in this case, finds a map in his parents' attic. But it isn't an ordinary map - a path begins to glow on it that no one else sees. He decides to follow it, and long story short, it leads him to a stranger who turns out to be his soulmate. This one has everything in it - fate, adventure, drama, love...kissing but you know," Jisung said, trying to hide the smirk rising to his face when Minho suddenly coughed around a mouthful of berries. "We'll get there. The point being, this is the quintessential love story."

"You sure sound like you know what you're doing..."

"And you sound like you don't. Tell me. What's keeping you from saying yes?"

"I..." Minho stuttered, rolling and smoothing over the edges of the napkin beside his plate. "Never mind."

"Come on! You can't tease me like this!" Jisung whined before an idea struck him. "You know what? How about you meet the other guy? The one you will have to fall in love with? Get that chemistry going. Try him out, see if that changes your mind."

"I…--"

"He's got very kissable lips.” Said Jisung, attempting to wink, but both of his eyes closed at the same time. Minho’s lips curled into a sweet smile at that, strawberry red, and his failure to wink suddenly didn’t feel so awkward anymore. “There's this scene where he leans over to you in the car during a red light, and you two make out for long enough that it turns green, so everyone is forced to drive around your car like a river parting around a boulder. It's a beautiful scene, we will shoot it with a drone to give the audience that bird's-eye-view angle. Cars are honking and people are cursing in the distance but for you in that tiny car, the world is just him and you."

Minho pursed his lips, eyes fluttering hesitantly at the salt and pepper shakers that Jisung almost knocked over about an hour ago.

The blonde did the same, contemplating his two options. He could either make Minho fall for Hyunjin, the other actor, and win an Academy Award with his broken heart, or somehow have Minho all to himself and just compromise on the actor. Both had its respective ups and downs.

He already had more than one successful project under his belt. He knew well what standing ovation sounds like after the debut screening, when the lights turn on in the pitch dark movie theater and he’s called on stage to accept the applause.

Then he thought of Minho's lips on Hyunjin’s - the audience would love it. His heart seized where it throbbed painfully against his chest.

"Come by my office tomorrow.” He said, having made up his mind. “I will introduce you to the love of your life, Hyunjin. It will be great. He is very sweet, you will fall for him as soon as you lay your eyes on him."

The wind outside the diner was beginning to pick up speed, blowing harshly at the branches of the sweetgum, causing a series of colored leaves to rain down. Jisung’s eyes flew to the window.

"Well...did you?" Came the question from Minho.

"Did I what?"

"Did you fall for Hyunjin like that?"

"Ah," Jisung cracked a smile. "No. He's not my type."

"Who's your type, then?" Minho grinned, curling his fingers around his cold glass of water. Jisung’s throat went dry.

The air felt like it was sucked out of the room - maybe there was never any, Jisung's memory might be glitching again. The question posed an interesting challenge - how to describe Minho to Minho, without being obvious?

"I don’t have any specific type, you know..." He rambled, "But I always go for the eyes. Hyunjin got those beautiful lips that have him on the cover of a new magazine each month because people can’t get enough of it. But I think eyes are where it’s at. They sometimes say a lot more than a mouth can.”

Minho tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowing together. Maybe no one had told him before that he got eyes that also belong on the cover of a magazine.

“What about you? Do _you_ have a type?"

Minho once again looked at him like a deer who was found strutting down the streets in the middle of the night, blinking into the bright lights. His eyes told Jisung more about the world than any book he had ever read, or any person he had ever spoken with, if only he could understand it. And if love was a color, it had to be brown, dark and mysterious like Minho's pupils, embraced by the wisps of almost auburn smoke in his irises left by the fire burning within them. It looked like an explosion, stars of tiny dark blotches scattered around like planets that lost their gravity, helplessly under the pull of the black hole in the center of Minho's eyes. Minho was meant to be a star, with those bright eyes, so wide that they could swallow Jisung up with still enough space left for the whole world to fit inside. No one could stand a chance against the pull of Minho's captivating gaze, and Jisung was like the Sun that suddenly shrunk into a flaming bud, losing gravity as the Moon tugged him out of place.

Before Minho could actually reply, the director's phone began buzzing with a call. Jisung excused himself, twisting his torso away from the table as much as he could without actually getting up. Minho let out a relieved little sigh, taking a sip of his sparkling water he had been clutching onto.

He could hear Jisung mutter to the person over the phone a "make it quick,” while he blew a series of bubbles into the water through his straw. Jisung, being close enough to the table, could also hear bubbles rise and pop somewhere in the distance, but thought it was done by the person on the other end of the call.

"Could you stop making that noise?" Jisung asked his composer. Minho immediately stopped, plucking the straw out of his water and tossing it aside, pretending it wasn't him. "Finally Chan! Thank you!"

Only a few seconds and furious nods later, Jisung turned back around apologetically.

“I have to meet with my assistant cinematographer to review the storyboard one last time so we can finish the set. I’m so sorry.” He muttered, a hint of frustration underlying his voice.

"It's fine..." Minho said, voice small and quiet. Jisung didn't know what to make of it.

"Are you sure? I know we couldn't go over everything, I'm sorry." Jisung apologized again. Minho’s gaze softened in a way that made Jisung’s knees feel like jelly.

"You have nothing to apologize for." He assured Jisung the same way the blonde assured him earlier that morning about his drunken cursing. Jisung’s lips curled upward in realization, stretching from ear to ear.

“Text me your email address, my assistant will send you a contract you can look over in the meantime.” He said, his phone buzzing with the next call. "Just please tell me you will accept the job. I can't imagine anyone else for the main lead." He pleaded, with his voice, his eyes, his everything.

"I'll look over the contract." Minho promised, doe eyes following Jisung's every move as the blonde quickly took his last piece of pancake into his hands and attempted to eat it, but the syrup kept dripping down his chin onto his shirt. Minho giggled, his nose scrunching up in delight at the sight of Jisung struggling. Jisung couldn't help but laugh along with him, pulling out a pen and a checkbook from the pocket of his jacket, staining it with the sticky maple syrup covering his fingers.

"You don't have to pay for it! I was just joking. You paid for my hotel and --" Minho offered, but Jisung was already signing the check.

"I insist." He replied, slapping the piece of paper onto the table with a wink, nearly tripping over his own shoelaces on his way to the door. Minho’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he waved him goodbye, and maybe something else Jisung was too much of a rush in to decipher.

**____________________________________________________________  
**

With a few adjustments to the contract, Minho agreed. To say that it was one of the happiest days in Jisung’s life would be an understatement. He tried to conceal his excitement but he didn't have to try for long. It waned on its own as soon he brought Hyunjin and Minho into the same room.

The boat under their feet rocked gently with the waves, the weather surprisingly warm despite mid-autumn. Hyunjin looked like a million bucks leaned against the railing, with his black blouse undone low, a sunglass bent at the temples and hanging from it. He ran his fingers through his black hair, which was getting long enough for the wind to card through it. He watched the shore get further and further away as the boat set sailing, and the water pass by them in bubbly, white waves.

Then there was Jisung with his sweatpants on and a baseball cap to hide his greasy hair.

After his first substantial paycheck, Jisung got bored of looking expensive. He preferred comfort although it was nice to get complimented on his style from time to time. It usually didn’t matter to look this messy, but in Minho’s presence, he somehow felt ashamed.

He had been up all night the day before at a friend's studio, helping her edit and make suggestions to her final work. Between himself and others, Jisung always chose his friends and it was never a source of shame. Now however, admiring Minho's glowy skin and his fluffy, bouncy caramel locks, Jisung wanted to jump off the boat and swim back to shore, pretending he was never here.

"We have a lot to go over." He sighed, reminding himself that there were bigger things at hand than whatever he was feeling for Minho. "You two need to get comfortable with each other. In fact, more than comfortable. Minho, have you looked over the script yet?"

Minho nodded, leaning with his back against the railing beside Hyunjin.

"Then you know that there are two major kissing scenes, and a scene in the car right around the middle of the movie where Hyunjin ends up pushing you down into the back seats. It's a very intimate moment. You can't look awkward, or flinch, or any of that."

"I know." Minho mumbled around a fake yawn. Jisung pressed his lips together to keep himself from commenting.

"Alright, what about you, Hyunjin? Take a look at Mr.-Know-It-All. If we were to record those scenes tomorrow, would you be ready to kiss him?"

Hyunjin turned around, his eyes tracing over Minho's face. It didn't take long before his lips melted into a dreamy smile.

"Definitely."

Jisung had worked with Hyunjin before and he knew that if Hyunjin said he was ready, then he meant it. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Minho bite down on his bottom lip and glance away sheepishly. Jisung found it hard to speak through the lump in his throat afterwards.

"Minho doesn't have any prior experience with acting, so I wanted us to go over the script together and get comfortable before I would let you do it with the acting coach. If something is off with the chemistry between the two of you, the audience will _know_."

Minho gave him another nod while Hyunjin moved to lace his long arms around Minho's torso, pulling him closer. Jisung's eyes flicked to the side, checking for Minho's reaction, whose shoulders tensed up at first before easing into the warmth of Hyunjin's body.

"Great. Just like that." Jisung muttered, flinching at the rough sound of his own voice, but fortunately no one else noticed. He had all three of them to sit down on the decks in a small circle and begin reading through the lines.

Minho was doing surprisingly well throughout, although he often glanced up from his script to check for Jisung's approval in places he wasn't sure if he sounded right. He fooled around a little too much during the more intimate scenes, either unnecessarily emphasising certain lines or coming off insincere. His face also didn’t show enough emotion and conviction, except for his eyes. His eyes said it all even when they were casted down. But arriving to the first kissing scene in the script proved to be their biggest hurdle, and by then even a few sparse raindrops began to fall from the sky.

"You guys just met today, we don't have to rush, there's plenty of time during the rehearsal period to -"

"Maybe just a peck on the lips? We can do that?" Hyunjin suggested, resting his head on Minho's shoulder, looking up at him softly.

All eyes were on Minho then, who kept parting and closing his mouth in an attempt to speak, before hesitantly agreeing.

"Alright, but remember" The blonde exclaimed, "When people watch you, the point is not to make them think that you are in love with Hyunjin. The point is to make people fall in love with you."

Jisung would know - he already fell for Minho the moment he saw him. At first, he thought he was just happy about finding the right person for the role. But the jealousy pooling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Minho moving closer to lock lips with Hyunjin, or the way Hyunjin’s hands cupped Minho’s face, said something else.

Part of Jisung was able to look at the scene from a technical perspective, telling Minho to pull Hyunjin closer by the waist, breathing some passion into the scene, or for Hyunjin to run his hands up Minho’s chest. That turned out to be a fatal mistake on Jisung’s part as Minho helplessly moaned into the kiss out of ticklisness. This other part of Jisung was harder to understand. The part of him that felt like the thunder only existed in his heart, and the rain only fell on him when Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss.

The scene even more important than the kiss itself was always the moment right after it, when the two characters gaze at each other, and their eyes say everything they are too out of breath or are too shy to say themselves. But when Minho ended the kiss by pushing Hyunjin away, his eyes immediately searched for Jisung instead.

The blonde gave him a thumbs up with a lopsided grin, even as Minho's eyes appeared almost apologetic a second later. Jisung wondered what Minho had sudden regrets about. Perhaps he didn’t kiss Hyunjin hard enough.

**____________________________________________________________  
**

Every day with Minho felt like borrowed time. Time Jisung didn't deserve, didn't earn, never saw it coming. Maybe that was what kept making them so special. Or maybe it was the way Minho's eyes stared at everything Jisung showed him behind the scenes with wide-eyed wonder. Sometimes, it felt like he even stared at Jisung with the same wide-eyed wonder. The director tried not to think too much of those moments.

The sun sat low on the purpled sky, its orange glow basking Minho's hair in a golden sheen. He looked like all the precious jewelry and gold chains Jisung dreamt of being able to afford once his movies garnered enough popularity. But with just Minho by his side, it felt like the real luxury of life, to spend time with someone special who was worth to him more than anything money could buy. He remembered having dreams so small, which now felt colossal. It isn’t that Jisung was rich now by any means, but he certainly made more than he ever needed. He could easily imagine himself spending it all on Minho, which he used to spend on camera equipment and new editing softwares. Maybe it was a little too easy to imagine.

They were driving back from rehearsals, on their way to Minho’s apartment. Jisung offered to take him home, and the boy didn't protest long enough to convince Jisung that he didn't want the ride.

Minho was like a lucky charm; Jisung kept getting green light nearly at every stop. He felt unstoppable when Minho was next to him.

"I've watched some of your other works." Minho chimed, the wind passing through the rolled down windows peeling his shirt a little more open, revealing a smooth, sun kissed chest. It took everything in Jisung to keep his eyes on the road.

"Oh, yeah? And what did you think?"

"That you are cool."

"Me or my movies?"

Minho turned his head toward the window, although the blonde could have sworn that he still caught a glimpse of the other's cheeks flush sweetly at the question.

"Both." Minho muttered, his voice close to being snatched by the wind. But Jisung caught it, and it made his chest swell with a kind of pride he had never felt before. It was different from when he finished a successful shoot, or seeing his finished project on his laptop screen. Different from any award ceremony, even meeting the fans of his work didn’t compare. Those were gradual and heavy, something Jisung could take with himself to the next day. But Minho’s words were bone-crushing, unexpected, sending a sudden bolt of energy throughout Jisung’s every nerve. It was impossible to grasp it, and it had him clench his fingers around the steering wheel. He wanted to feel it again.

"Especially your spy movie with those nine kids."

Jisung smiled, feeling weightless as if he was driving through the clouds.

"That's also one of my favorites." He agreed, suspicious of the silence that followed. He glanced toward Minho, finding him deep in thought.

"Was there a movie you didn't like? You can tell me, I won't be offended." Jisung winked, but the other just shook his head.

"It's not that...I was just wondering how you came up with this movie and..." Minho rambled, smoothing over the top of the rolled down glass as he waited for the courage to find him.

"And?"

"It was very stupid of you to choose someone like me for the main lead in such a big movie."

Jisung burst out laughing, heartfelt and freeing, as if this laugh had been suffocating him from the inside all along and now he could finally let it out.

"So I'm cool and stupid? I take that." The blonde snickered, quirking an eyebrow in Minho's direction, catching some of that golden glow of the sun turning his eyes into sparkling embers.

"You know what I meant..." Minho's blush deepened, as red as the light they stopped at. "Why did you choose me?"

For a long while, almost too long, Jisung just stared at the miles and miles of asphalt stretching ahead of them. He tried not to think of the scene in their script where Hyunjin leans over to kiss Minho at the red light.

Maybe Jisung shouldn't be here. Or maybe Jisung should have been Hyunjin all along.

“The first time of everything is always special.” Jisung began, so nervous that he wondered how his heart was still in place. “The first time I tried sour candy, I thought my tongue got burnt off. I will never forget it. The first time I heard my favorite band play live on stage, just an arm's reach away, I got goosebumps like never before.”

Minho stared at him with a confused gaze, head tilted and brows furrowed. Only Jisung knew where he was trying to go with all this, maybe he wasn’t even so sure anymore. But Minho’s reaction was precious, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“And then there was the first time I saw you.”

Jisung forced himself to laugh, even as it didn’t come easy. Especially when his gaze traveled all over Minho’s face, drawing in a breath that trembled through his body. Soon everyone will know that face. But for now, he was Jisung's diamond in the rough; it could all still just be a dream.

The red light seemed to last forever. Maybe it was waiting for Jisung to say more, so he continued.

“I saw your eyes and I knew that it’s either you in my movie or no one. They are so wide and expressive, other actors were straining themselves to convey just a fraction of what your eyes can tell in a single gaze. I don’t always know what they try to tell me but I guess that’s part of their mystery.” Minho’s lids fluttered at that, his cheeks the rosiest they had ever been. It was almost comical or maybe just too beautiful to be real. “Don’t take me too seriously though, we artists can get too lost in the details...”

The actor’s mouth parted to shape a word that didn’t come out, and the silence was beginning to fray Jisung thinner and thinner. He said too much yet not enough.

The only force in the world that could make Jisung tear his eyes away from him was the car behind them giving him a startling honk. He pushed down on the pedals without a second thought, sending both Minho and himself far into their seats.

Minho was not a talkative guy anyway, but the rest of the way was unusually quiet. After a certain point, Jisung couldn't take it anymore and moved to turn on the radio. Anything seemed better than listening to his own voice replaying inside his head, echoing the things he shared with Minho a few minutes ago, until all he could recognize in himself was regret. This is why poetry never worked out for him; he felt too vulnerable putting his emotions into words. But as his luck would always have it, a love song was playing, so maybe sitting in the silence wasn’t so bad.

He leaned forward, with his eyes glued on the road, wanting to switch channels when his fingers suddenly brushed against the actor’s, who was reaching over at the same time. His skin tingled where they touched, sparks flying, and he pulled his hand away, surprised to see Minho turning up the volume, with a smile settled in the curve of his lips. Jisung didn't object; it was a good song after all.

**____________________________________________________________** **  
**

The cast and the production team had been recording for almost two months, nearing the end. Post-production will take another month if Jisung doesn’t sleep. He won’t.

They were in the studio, preparing to record Hyunjin and Minho's first kissing scene. They left it near the end to make sure the two actors had enough time to warm up to each other. Some days, Jisung thought that they did. Hyunjin was very touchy with Minho, teasing the elder until he got frustrated, picking Hyunjin up and spinning him around, making them both dizzy. Minho would surely never admit, but he seemed like he did enjoy getting teased, and the younger liked seeing Minho's head turn red in frustration. Other days, Minho had that distance in his eyes. The detached, defeated look. Jisung didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps he was biased from the beginning, but Minho seemed the happiest when he was with Jisung. But maybe Jisung just couldn't think past his own feelings.

Everyone was in position. There were two cameras hiding in the shadows, each focused on a different angle, and the sound assistant was holding up the microphones so they were out of the frame. Changbin was right by his side, telling the makeup artist to part Minho's bangs in the middle a little more.

Jisung was holding his breath. Clearly, Minho was, too, but for other reasons. Part of it was Minho's refusal to go over the kissing scene during their rehearsals on the grounds that he wanted it to come off authentic on the camera, as if it was their real first kiss. But Jisung believed that there had to be other reasons; ones Minho didn't want to talk about.

"Cameras ready?" The assistant director yelled.

"Ready."

"Roll sound."

"Sound is speeding."

Jisung's assistant gave him a nod, and Jisung nodded back. The final say was always the young director’s, which he gave with flat enthusiasm. _Scene 18 Shot A Take 1_

"Action!"

Hyunjin slowly inched closer to Minho, beginning to recite his lines. His voice was as choked as Jisung’s could get whenever Minho smiled at him, and it was no surprise, since Hyunjin’s character was hopelessly in love with Minho. It sounded very convincing, maybe a little too much so; Jisung certainly taught him well.

"Zoom in on his face." The blonde whispered to the camera guy focused on Hyunjin, watching the frame show a close-up of the actor’s lovesick gaze. It was exactly what Jisung had in mind. Hyunjin's lips looked silky, his eyes pleading, just waiting for Minho to close the gap between them.

Then the camera switched to Minho, and it was _awful_.

Minho was squinting his eyes with a lopsided grin. He looked like he was planning his grand escape. That look of love in his eyes that Jisung was telling him about during rehearsals was nowhere to be found.

This won't sell.

"Alright, cut! Hold on." Jisung yelled, getting up from his chair to walk up to Minho. He could see the actor gulp, shifting his weight onto the other leg.

He gently directed Hyunjin to the side, out of the frame of the camera, stepping into his place.

"Look at me, Minho." He asked, hands reaching up to cup the other's cheeks.

Minho let out a shaky breath and pressed his eyelids shut. Jisung's heart skipped a beat.

"Minho..." He called again, the skin soft beneath his thumbs caressing those flushed cheeks, threatening to mess up the foundation.

"I'm sorry..." Minho mumbled, eventually opening his eyes, bright enough to rival the stage lights. It planted a dangerous thought in Jisung’s mind. Thoughts about smashing their lips together, thoughts about Minho in his arms, thoughts about another life where this movie was about them.

Jisung leaned closer so he could whisper into the actor’s ear.

"Tell me what’s wrong."

Minho shuddered under the director’s warm breath on his skin. The tension wrapped itself around Jisung’s neck and he was out of air within seconds. He waited.

"I'm nervous..." Minho whispered back, "I know this scene is very important. I don’t want to disappoint you."

Jisung's chest hurt, and he wondered if being in love meant that Minho's pain will always hurt twice as much as his own.

“You won’t. Every single scene we’ve shot before this has been perfect. Ask anyone in this room, they’ll tell you. So don’t worry about me. Think of all the doors this opportunity will open for _you_. You will be able to have your own dance studio with the money. Or even better! You’ll wake up to a million calls trying to cast you for a Dirty Dancing sequel!”

Minho grinned at the suggestions, with that particular smile that had his nose scrunch up. Jisung loved that smile.

“Do this for yourself. And if you must, imagine you are kissing someone else instead of Hyunjin."

The actor looked at him, eyes wide and foggy, probably from trying to imagine someone else in Jisung’s place like he was advised.

This was supposed to be a quiet, fleeting moment, just a director giving stage directions to one of his cast members. Actors could often get overwhelmed before major scenes in the plot, this wasn’t the first time Jisung had to walk up to one of them and talk through their anxieties. But with Minho, as everything with him, felt different. There will never not be a day that those eyes didn’t stir something painful and beautiful in Jisung, not a single a day when they didn’t work on him like a spell.

Whenever Minho was so near, Jisung’s mouth ran dry and his chest ached as if his heart had been replaced by a burning piece of coal. To see Minho with that look of love in his eyes, thinking of who knows what stranger, made Jisung's heart clench and seize around the pain it couldn't phantom. And for a painful second, Jisung let himself imagine what it would be like to have Minho look at him with those eyes.

When Minho eventually nodded, confident and ready to try again, Jisung’s hands slipped away from his face and motioned for Hyunjin to get back into position.

They re-shot Hyunjin's scene, which went as great as during the first take. Then came Minho's scene, and this time, he got it right.

He breathed in, shaky as Hyunjin locked their lips, but he leaned into it eagerly.

Jisung’s heart twisted into a knot, because he dreamt about this moment for far too long. Now he dreaded it. To feel this much in a body so small was overwhelming, and Jisung kept shrinking and shrinking into himself until his heartbeat was the only thing he could hear in the room.

He felt a lot of things. He felt pride. His eyes also itched from not getting enough sleep three days in a row, and his head was thrumming. But the worst was that whirlwind spinning in the pit of his stomach, shooting up until it fanned out throughout his chest. Love and pride, like oil and water, did not go well together.

He was about to have it _all_ once more - renewed fame, spotlight, cheering fans. He imagined reaching for them, the people and the lights just at the tip of his fingers. In the past not even that long ago, this was the precise moment he always felt the highest, like he was being lifted to the top of the world.

Now he just tried swallowing down the lump in his throat. He was angry because it suddenly dawned on him that maybe his first love was never the movies.

Maybe his first love was Minho, and he was crashing because putting Minho in a movie where he had to fall for someone else was a mistake.

Hyunjin titled his head, letting Minho claim his lips as he sighed into the kiss. It was hard to watch because Minho's lips were a perfect fit against Hyunjin's, and in the place of Jisung's heart where he should feel pride and excitement, he felt longing and bitterness, and jealousy. It was an ugly feeling, rotting inside him

He knew it was all an act, he just couldn't make himself believe it, too. Between knowing and believing, Jisung was caught up in the way Minho looked at Hyunjin when the cameras began rolling during the second take. Anyone could fake contempt, fear, or surprise, even hate. But love lived in the eyes only, and that couldn't be faked. Maybe Minho was thinking about someone he was in love with; maybe he was falling for Hyunjin.

Little did it matter, because Minho was beautiful with love in his eyes; Jisung could never take that away from him. And it was a beautiful scene, too, something he knew he would be proud if he wasn't crashing.

Jisung found himself smiling; it was a tired, defeated smile. The sadness and the longing that hung over his head was suffocating. He couldn't breathe through it.

**____________________________________________________________  
**

Changbin noticed first, or maybe he was the first one who had the guts to comment on it.

"So what's happening?"

Jisung was in his temporary office, hunched over his desk. He tried to keep his voice even and face straight as he buried himself deeper into his laptop, typing away at the tensed silence.

"A pink sweater, huh." He cackled. "Never thought I would see the day."

Changbin’s cheeks flushed at the comment.

“Hyunjin recommended it to me.” He muttered, “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

"I'm proofreading a friend's script. It's pretty good so far, I like superhero stuff, she -"

"Cut the crap, Jisung." Changbin rolled his eyes, pushing most of the stuff on Jisung's desk to the side so he could sit on top. "This isn't our first movie together. I know something's up. You always hop around excitedly from scene to scene, annoying everyone."

Jisung flinched. Changbin hurriedly added,

"In a good way, I mean. In a way that I miss it. Is there something going on?"

"No, why would there be?"

"Exactly! Why _would_ there be? Because there is."

"I've just been tired lately. I'm ready to wrap up this project."

Changbin shook his head.

"Come on. You are smarter than this. You know you'll feel better if you just tell someone what's bothering you. Is it something about the movie?"

Jisung's fingers froze for a second too long. Changbin grinned.

"Okay. I see...I see. If you asked for Hyunjin's number and he said no, don't take it personal, 'cause he already gave it to me."

"No, Changbin, geez." Jisung laughed, "I didn't even think about doing that."

"Good." Changbin replied, in a tone that made Jisung wonder what would have happened if he said otherwise. "Then what's up?"

The blonde refused to answer until Changbin shut his laptop close, almost at the cost of his fingers.

"Hey!" Jisung exclaimed, trying to reach for his laptop but Changbin still had a hand on top of it.

"The faster you tell me, the faster you can get back to whatever you were doing."

Jisung leaned into his chair, uncomfortable as it had no cushioning, something he just borrowed from the set that was meant to be used for a dining table.

"Is it Minho?"

Jisung nearly winced. Thinking of Minho had become a source of pain. He wanted to deny it, but something in the way Changbin looked at him made him uneasy, like he could see right through him.

He nodded.

“You’ve been acting weird around him. And by weird, I mean sad.”

Jisung scoffed, more so at himself than at his friend.

"I work with gorgeous and famous people all the time. There are beautiful people you see every single day, for years and years, but never really think about them again. And then there are people you see for a second and end up thinking about for the rest of your life." He sighed, staring into the distance. "That's Minho."

Changbin hummed, clearly thinking of someone as well.

"You know, I never got around asking, but how did you discover him? This is his first movie, isn't it?"

Jisung smiled, remembering back to Minho bowed over the toilet. In hindsight, only Jisung could be mad enough to have fallen for Minho in that situation. But somewhere between Minho's bitter attitude and his own desperation to find the perfect person for the role, they found a middle ground. Against all odds, Minho gave him a call.

"At the party. He was throwing up in the bathroom. I liked his eyes."

Changbin stared at him for a second, a choked laugh escaping him before he clapped Jisung on the back.

“You are almost as weird as him. And he can be pretty weird. Like have you seen him spray febreeze on his cloths in the changing room? Or try on the cat ears when he thinks I’m not right by the door?”

Jisung bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from chuckling. He knew. And he knew a lot more even weirder things. He loved those, too.

“It's not the end of the world,” Changbin supplied, trying to make Jisung feel better. “You want a piece of him, so what?" It wasn't working. "Listen. I know it's hard to see the one you want hit it off with someone prettier --"

Now it was Jisung’s turn to roll his eyes.

"I never said that."

"Fine.” Changbin huffed, raising his arms defensively. “Maybe I have no idea what got you so worked up."

"I'm the director here, dude!” The blonde retorted. “I can't...it's unprofessional of me to initiate anything. You shouldn't even have Hyunjin's private number to begin with so thank me later for not firing you."

"Well, if you put it that way."

Jisung snorted, running a hand over his face.

"Okay. Fair enough. But you want Minho really bad, and when this movie is done, there's nothing to stop you from trying. Until then, just have some patience and keep your hands away from his pants." Changbin teased, cackling at the blonde's face turning red to the tip of his ears.

"I-It's not that…” Jisung muttered, “I think he's already in love with someone else. Maybe Hyunjin."

"Oh, yeah? Did you read his diary to figure that out?"

"I saw it in his eyes!" Jisung exclaimed, his voice oozing conviction. Changbin quirked an eyebrow at him, arms crossed.

"As a friend to a friend - you are pathetic. You know that, right?"

The director let out a groan, shoving Changbin off his desk and out the door.

"How about you keep your hands away from Hyunjin’s pants?"

Before Changbin could reply, his index finger already raised in objection, Jisung slammed the door shut in his face and tried to get back to work with little success.

**____________________________________________________________**

The darkest hours are just before dawn.

It was something Jisung's mother used to tell him when he was younger, on his bad days when the world seemed to have conspired against him. He wasn't always sure what she meant by it. Did bad things have to happen before good things did? Was the best yet to come?

It should have been routine by now to walk down the red carpet, accompanied by paparazzi and flashing camera lights toward the theater for their first screening, which was just minutes away. It used to be a special moment and this movie was supposed to be yet one of Jisung's biggest projects. He was always more excited than nervous, but this time, he felt neither.

He saw the storyline in his dreams, he put his heart and soul into it, he took more risks than he thought he could handle. He remembered the frustration of pulling everything together, the number of times he wanted to throw in the towel and start something new. But he always came back to this movie. In Minho, he saw those dreams and frustrations, and how beautiful it can all be. Maybe Minho was the darkest hour before dawn.

"There are so many people here..." Minho whispered on their way toward the front row, his sweet voice roughened by nervousness. Jisung felt the sound tug at his chest like hooks.

There were chairs assigned to each member attending, including the main characters and the people who worked on the project behind the screen. Jisung noticed Minho's nametag right next to his, and knew it was going to be a long night.

It was heart-wrenching to see Minho be this anxious. It reminded Jisung of the first kissing scene they recorded. He was thinking about that shoot ever since, about Minho’s velvety skin beneath his fingers, even though it happened two months ago.

"Don't worry, it will be fine." Jisung assured him, the room getting louder as people began to pour inside the theater. He felt Minho lean closer, his lips hovering above the director’s ear.

"What if they won't like me?"

Minho’s voice was soft as a caress against his ear. It nearly wrecked him.

"You are overthinking it. They will love you." The blonde replied, voice hoarse and uneven from Minho’s proximity. If the boy was to inch even a little bit closer to him, Jisung was sure he would lose his voice altogether.

Minho shook his head in disagreement, and Jisung met his worried gaze under the wavy and dark strands of his bangs swaying. His eyes were brown and soft like the earth; maybe that was where Jisung will be buried when he dies.

"You are a really charming guy, Minho. There's not a soul in this world who wouldn't fall for you."

Minho gave him a small smile at that, almost a smirk had he not been so nervous.

"Does that include _you_?"

Jisung's could feel his heart in his throat; maybe death was closer than he thought.

Right there, right then, it would have been the easiest thing to just ask Minho out. But it felt too hard, and the lights above their head began to dim down before he could answer. The first commercials started to play and Minho visibly frowned at the interruption. Jisung, on the other hand, let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, slouching into his chair further.

At least the audience reacted at all the scenes where he hoped they would; cursing when Minho made the wrong turn according to the map, gasping when Hyunjin and Minho saw each other for the first time. They cheered at their first kiss, and cried from happiness when the map got blown away by the wind, probably on its way to the next person in need of finding his soulmate. Jisung wished that the map he made up would find him, too, and confirm that sitting beside Minho was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The movie ended with the second major makeout scene, and Jisung remembered how much easier it was to record that one. Then there was Hyunjin's magazine smile, and Minho's ethereal gaze, that look of love - and the camera zoomed out.

The applause was deafening. Jisung couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or cry.

Throughout the entire movie, he kept thinking about how after this screening was over, he will have to see Minho much less other than at occasional cast interviews. How Minho won’t be a part of his life the same way anymore. His stomach hurt with longing already. And somewhere during the movie, Minho's head found his shoulder to rest on, like during their first taxi ride to the hotel, but he smelled like fresh laundry this time, and his soft hair was tickling Jisung's cheeks like the feathers of a bird ready to fly away.

Jisung desperately wanted to get up yet he couldn't make himself move, so he leaned his head on Minho’s, with his mother's voice echoing in his head about the best yet to come. He wanted to believe her.

**____________________________________________________________**

Most of the cast and filming crew went out for dinner after the screening. Jisung was always excited to go. This time, he opted out and went back to his hotel instead. His coworkers, all in a jolly mood, attempted to push him toward the restaurant down the block, clapping and trying to convince him to tag along. He told them he didn't feel well. The cheers suddenly trailed off, and the hands that were holding onto his shoulders and waist slowly let go. He could feel their eyes on his back as he turned the opposite way.

The way back to the hotel was long and he felt weird strolling down the streets in a suit and a pair of sneakers, heaps of melted snow slouchy under his shoe. He somehow managed to dodge the people ahead of him even with his head down, with feet too busy kicking aside the trash in his way.

His head was dizzy, it felt like the spotlights after the screening had burned his skin. He undid the first two buttons on his blouse but continued to sweat profusely. It didn't help that by the time he got back to his hotel, someone was already waiting for him.

"What took you so long?" Minho asked, getting up from the floor where he had been waiting for Jisung. His glossed, cherry lips pulled into a sweet smile, and Jisung wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave. He managed to smile back, however awkward it must have looked. If Minho noticed the tensions on his face, he didn't show it.

"I felt like taking a walk." Jisung replied, unable to look Minho in the eye as he began fumbling through his pocket for the keys. Minho watched him intently, with his bottom lip pulled nervously between his teeth.

"The screening went well, didn't it?" The actor noted, trying to start a conversation with Jisung. But Jisung wasn't having it. Not when seeing Minho made him hotter and dizzier than he already was.

As soon as he got to the couch facing the window, he collapsed on top, the leather squeaking and deflating under the extra weight. He threw the hotel keys on the bed, unbothered to see where it landed, burying his face between his palms to hide it from Minho's curious eyes.

"Yeah, the audience liked it."

"They _loved_ it, Jisung. Just like you knew they would." Whispered Minho, sitting beside him. The actor’s voice was softer than usual, with a gentle edge to them that was like a lullaby to Jisung's worn heart. The blonde wanted to fall asleep in his arms, entangled to the point that he couldn't move. Right now however, the distance between their bodies could only allow for the brushing of their thighs. Even that felt too much, yet not enough.

"It wasn't the movie that they liked," Jisung began, leaning into the cushions of the couch while he turned toward Minho. "They liked Hyunjin and you."

Even in the dimness of the room and flickering city lights streaming through the large window, Jisung could make out the blush tinting Minho's cheeks as red as his lips. It suddenly made perfect sense why it was Jisung’s favorite color.

"You are going to be famous, Minho." He found himself muttering, his breath lost as their eyes met, time equally trapped between their bodies. Jisung wanted to say more, but somewhere in the distance, they could hear an ambulance siren go off as it zig-zagged through the traffic, leaving them to stare at each other for a few more seconds in silence. Maybe it was those extra moments that prompted Minho the courage to say more.

"I'm not interested in becoming an actor."

"Why wouldn't you?" Jisung knit his brows, "You looked like you were enjoying yourself all this time?"

The emotions bubbling up inside Minho had nowhere to hide as they flickered through his bright, doe eyes.

"When I woke up after the night we met, I couldn't stop thinking about you." Minho mumbled, voice quiet. The room was suspiciously silent with two otherwise loud people in it. "I never tried acting before, so I didn't know what to think of the whole thing. All I knew was that I've never met someone as nice as you."

"Oh..." Jisung breathed, the only sound he could muster through his clogged throat. He was always good at making others feel special but when it came to Minho, he did believe he had found one in a million.

The eyes say a lot. Sometimes, they say it all. The last time Jisung had seen Minho's vision this clouded, he was thinking of someone else while kissing Hyunjin.

It felt like fireworks went off inside Jisung's chest when he realized that maybe, just maybe, Minho imagined kissing him all along.

"If it makes you feel any better...I also couldn't stop thinking about you."

Minho sheepishly averted his gaze at that. A part of Jisung was grateful; he was getting too dizzy.

“Initially, I was selfish.” The director admitted, solemn this time. “I wanted you around because I thought you were my next ticket to Hollywood. But it changed...It all changed.” He stuttered, words gracelessly tumbling out of his gasping mouth. Changbin was right, he was pathetic.

For the longest time between Minho's confession and Jisung's gasp, it looked like Minho was about to tear up. Now, a gleeful smile returned to his face, and the sadness vanished from his eyes like mist on a lake. Jisung felt proud for being the cause of Minho's joy, and along the path that time ticked by, they began to giggle, and their lonely hands found each other's company.

"The hardest part was making out with Hyunjin when all I wanted was for you to pull me close and kiss me instead." Minho said through his giggle, making Jisung choke on the air trapped inside his lungs.

"How bold of you." Jisung mused, his heart ready to burst through his chest and suit when Minho gave him a small pout, eyes glancing up at him from behind a curtain of long, dark lashes. The director got the hint. "Do you still want that?"

Minho nodded wordlessly, staring at Jisung with eyes too hopeful to be denied, and lips parted in a promise to be yet the softest things Jisung had ever felt. Minho was dangerous, Jisung knew that. Playing with him was like playing with fire, not knowing which way the flames will flick first.

But for now, Minho wasn’t flames and danger; he was shaky and desperate as his lids fluttered shut, waiting for Jisung's chapped lips to find his own, sighing contently when they did. He let out a sound close to a sob, as deep as if he had been waiting for this moment for far too long. He wrapped his arms around the blonde’s neck, eagerly ushering him closer until Jisung had no choice but to straddle him.

"Jisung..." Minho sighed, over and over again until his voice frayed into a high-pitched moan between the kisses, rattling Jisung’s bones.

All this time, Jisung had been writing the stories _of_ other people, and _for_ other people, but tonight, he felt like a protagonist of his own movie. He wanted to tell Minho about the stinging jealousy he felt when Hyunjin got to kiss him, about the longing that chewed him empty between shoots when they couldn't see each other, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. What mattered was that in the place of his love for movies he thought nothing could replace, Jisung found Minho instead. And just for tonight, he could get lost in his own happy ending, in the story about Minho and him finding each other when they needed one another the most, and that was all there is to it.


End file.
